


Harwood Park

by chasingbluefish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife coaches lol, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Fires, M/M, Mystery, Other, Supernatural Elements, Supernatural violence, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingbluefish/pseuds/chasingbluefish
Summary: Messers Lupin and Black are the proud owners of an estate management and liquidation business. When a well known family from the aristocracy asks them to come and spend the weekend at an old manor house to begin the inventory process they jump at the chance. Four days in a country estate with priceless antiques, alone. What could go wrong? When a series of inexplicable events begin to plague the men they wonder if they really are alone after all.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Where to begin? I am so excited that Gloom and Muse are throwing this lovely fest. I love creepy and supernatural and all things fireside tale related and jumped at the chance to write for it. I want to thank my lovely beta Cherry who put up with all my mistakes and whining, Arty who made a valiant attempt, and Muse for all of the help. You guys are rockstars. And everyone in the discord chats because you are all amazing. 
> 
> This was a prompt based fest and I was lucky enough to land my first choice prompt, which is this photo!
> 
>  

It began with an email.

 

The Maycott name was enough to get anyone’s attention, really. Even if they weren’t known throughout the British Isles, they were well known enough for anyone with a business to feel a tingle of excitement at the prospect of their patronage. Off the top of his head alone, Remus could think of five different properties currently owned by the family. Properties no doubt packed with all kinds of antiquities and profitable knick knacks. The historian in him was dying to get in there.

 

“What is it?” Sirius Black, partner in work and life, had stepped up beside his desk, two steaming mugs in hand. 

 

“We have an email from the solicitors of the Maycott family.” Remus accepted his tea with a grateful smile. 

 

“... _ The _ Maycott family?”

 

“It looks legitimate.” He had skimmed the words already but scrolled back up for Sirius’ benefit. 

 

The details stated that an elderly family member had passed away and they were interested in procuring the services of Messers Lupin and Black to help deal with the deceased’s property. By the sound of things, the man had been a bit of an eccentric and lived by himself in an old country estate which no one had really been invited to in years. Apart from a caretaker who visited thrice weekly and one or two fellow recluses, he demanded privacy and isolation.

 

“So we could be walking into a goldmine or a heap of rubbish.” Sirius concluded.

 

“Precisely. The manor house is from Tudor times but it’s been upgraded over the years. If we’re amenable they would like to have lunch to discuss terms.”

 

“I’m most certainly amenable, you?”

 

“Definitely. Even if it is a load of rubbish, can you imagine the historical shite we’d find?”

 

“Would you like to call them or shall I?” 

  
  
  


Two hours later, Sirius and Remus were in their Landrover and on their way to one of the town’s posher establishments. 

 

When they had begun their business, it had mostly been an idea without much backing. When Remus’ mother had passed and he’d gone home from university to deal with things, it had surprised him that there were either house clearing companies or auctions. Not both. Nor was there someone who would come and give him an estimate for the things he wanted to part with without making it clear that any conferrance with another company would be grounds to walk away. 

 

Later that night while railing about the ridiculousness of it all to his newly acquired friend Sirius Black, a seed had been planted. 

 

“We could always go into business together. You’re getting your history major. I’m great with people. One stop shop, so to speak.”

 

“Right. Always go into business with someone you’ve known for a week.”

 

“Best way, really.”

 

They had laughed it off at the time, but friendship turned to romance and romance became something deeper. Ten years later found them in their early thirties with that exact business and a growing client base. History degrees and time spent in auction houses gave them credibility, while Sirius had taken time to learn the ins and outs of running one’s own company. In fact, the tasteful sign above their door read: Messrs Lupin and Black: Estate Management and Liquidation. It was a touch dramatic but Sirius had insisted upon the Messrs. 

 

Their business could come in and give an estimate at the value of the property. They could hold an auction or sale in the house itself or move to a showroom for the purpose. If one simply wanted to rid themselves of their things, Lupin and Black would gladly buy them to later sell at their store. Or handle the sale for them, with a commission, of course. Recently, Remus had begun sourcing items for clients as well. They’d also built up a healthy online presence and that was what Remus suspected had drawn the attention of the Maycott family. 

 

“After you.” Sirius was smiling as he held the door, and Remus rolled his eyes, stepping into the din of a busy lunch hour. 

 

A stately woman of very diminutive size but formidable aura was seated at a discreet table near the back. Someone Sirius immediately pegged as a country gentleman, most likely the woman’s husband, was seated next to her along with another man who could only be the solicitor. 

 

“Maycotts?” Sirius asked under his breath. Remus nodded in agreeance. Sirius gave their names to the host who came up to greet them, and they were immediately whisked over to the trio and seated. 

 

“Messers Lupin and Black, I presume?” 

 

“Yes, Remus Lupin.”

 

“Sirius Black.” 

 

“Georgina Maycott.” She held out a hand to be shaken, the tasteful but expensive ring on her finger catching the light. “This is my husband Nathaniel, and our solicitor, Matthew Gardiner. I believe you spoke over the phone.”

 

“Yes, of course. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Pleasantries dealt with, Georgina dove right in. 

 

“You have the gist of the situation?”

 

“Yes, the property of your great uncle?”

 

“Yes. To be frank, no one has been out there in years. A decade at least. Uncle Rupert became quite reclusive in his late years. No visitors, save a few close friends. No family. We employed a caretaker to stop in every three days. Make sure there was food, that he was alright. No one has any idea what the house looks like anymore, let alone what is now inside.”

 

“Which is where we come in.” Sirius took a sip of the tea that had been brought over. 

 

“There are some family treasures I suspect to be hidden away in Harwood Park. Uncle Rupert has been gone three weeks now. I want to get the property taken care of as quickly as possible. Recover those treasures, assess the rest of the contents. Our caretaker mentioned that he’d begun to hoard towards the end, god knows what’s there. I’m willing to give you a generous price on the things we have no use for and there is a hefty bonus if you take us up on the weekend offer.”

 

“The weekend offer being us driving up and spending the weekend in the house doing a basic inventory.”

 

“We will have someone make sure the kitchen is stocked. The phone lines are still in use, there is basic dial-up accessibility and the water and electric are in working order. Rooms will be made up. Matthew spoke with us about your fees, we had him draw up a contract.” At this, the solicitor withdrew a sheaf of papers and passed them across.

 

Sirius and Remus read them in silence, heads close together. 

 

Everything was in order...except for the last bit. 

 

“A non disclosure agreement?” Sirius glanced up.

 

“It’s fairly standard. I’m sure you’ve encountered them before. As I’ve said, I have no idea what might be found up there and we have a reputation to maintain. I can’t risk rumours getting around about Old Rupert Maycott and whatever odd habit or...inclination he may have.”

 

“I can assure you we are extremely discreet.”

 

“I’m sure you are. But I still require you to sign.”

 

“May we have a moment to discuss?”

 

“Yes, of course, but only a moment. We have a busy schedule.”

 

“Only a moment or two.” Remus assured as he rose from his seat. Sirius was quick to follow and the pair retreated to the small waiting area. 

 

“What does she think we’ll find? Old Uncle Rupert’s sex swing? Or some scandal about the maids? The footmen? When have we ever run our mouths about a client’s belongings?” Sirius muttered, contract still in hand. 

 

“Yeah, of course. But they’re old money. You should know. Your mother would probably make someone sign an NDA if they came in to clean the pipes. I don’t see anything in this contract that screws us. It’s actually pretty generous.” Remus underlined the figures with his index.

 

“I mean, of course we’re signing it.”

 

“We are. But it never hurts to let them think there’s a chance we won’t.”

 

“Never appear too eager.”

 

“Ah, yes. In business anyways.”

 

“Cheeky.” Sirius grinned. 

 

Back at the table they came to an agreement that would see the pair leaving Thursday afternoon and spending until Monday morning at Harwood Park. They were to keep the Maycotts apprised of their progress, and Remus and Sirius assured them that photos, lists, and sketches was among their usual practice. By the end all parties were satisfied, and the keys were exchanged along with a set of directions, instructions about various workings within the manor, and phone numbers. 

  
  


Thursday at lunch, the pair loaded up their Landrover with enough clothes and toiletries for their stay and anything from the office they thought they might need. 

 

It was a long, winding journey into the countryside and just passing into evening when Remus and Sirius found themselves pulling into the long drive. Gravel crunched beneath their tires, the setting sun just visible over the old wrought iron and stone wall that fenced in the estate. 

 

“Not very welcoming, is it?” Remus muttered, slowing to a stop at the gate. 

 

“No. Regular old Manderley on our hands. I think.” Sirius agreed, swinging his door open and jumping out. In his hand were the gate keys, an ornate old iron thing, and sleek modern version for the extra lock added a year prior. 

 

The gates parted with an ominous creek and Sirius waved Remus through before following and locking up behind. It was only a short walk to the manor and he trailed the vehicle, taking in the overgrown grounds that must have once been a masterpiece. Fallen leaves littered the ground, collecting in puddles and across wild hedges. 

 

Hands in pockets, he came to stand next to his partner who had finally emerged from behind the wheel. 

 

“Well...she did say the place was neglected.”

 

“...must have been a showstopper once.”

 

They stared up together.

 

Harwood Park loomed up before them with crumbling red brick and blankets of ivy. They’d been told the house dated from the sixteenth century and the original Tudor architecture could be easily picked out. Beautiful geometric chimneys and mullioned windows decorated the façade. Delicate parapets ran along the roof. Just above the lintel the date 1532 was inscribed. 

 

Over the years, there had been upgrades and additions, but the family had taken care to preserve the original foundations.  _ ‘Had _ ’ being the operative word.

 

Now, layers of grime covered the windows and all manner of creatures had made the place their home; infact Remus could pick out a nest in one of the overstuffed gutters, droppings painting the brick white. More than one shutter was missing, and the creeping ivy had begun to pry away those that remained. Rudimentary patch jobs dotted the roof.

 

She was a beauty past her prime, left to decay.

 

“Miss Havisham.” Sirius murmured. 

 

“Manderley and Satis House? Christ, what have we gotten ourselves into?” As Remus spoke, a raven descended to perch itself just above the entryway and he felt a small shiver of unease prickle up his neck. 

 

What indeed?


	2. Chapter Two

“She’s got beautiful bones.” Remus was stirring a pot of soup that had been left in the refrigerator for them by the caretaker. As promised, the pantry and icebox were full and the electricity proved to be in working order. Rather modern really, considering their surroundings. 

 

Sirius was seated at the island, a rolling counter topped with the largest butcher’s block he had ever seen, and sliced through a loaf of bread. 

 

“She does. The Maycotts could restore this, they have pockets of money and the tours would look good on their resume.”

 

“They don’t need anything on their resume. But I have a feeling they wouldn’t mind.” Remus reached to turn off the hob and carefully carried the pot over to the island, where he joined Sirius on another stool. 

 

Next to them, a set of blueprints were rolled out, various kitchen implements holding the corners down. Harwood Park boasted ten official bedrooms, although a few of the dressing rooms could have more than fit the bill. Seven lavatories were spread out between. Two parlours, two studies, a drawing room, a library, the grand dining room used for entertaining, and a less formal version. The kitchen alone could house a small family. At the back of the manor, on the third floor, the servant’s quarters were tucked away beneath the eaves.

 

“We’re in the Blue Bedroom. First on the left at the top of the stairs.” Remus tapped the square. 

 

“Hope it isn’t as crammed full as some of the other rooms we’ve seen.” 

 

“At least there isn’t piles of refuse. I was a little worried.” 

 

“Yeah. Only mountains of boxes and papers and furniture.” Sirius chuckled, dunking his bread into his bowl and eating with relish. Remus rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, eyes landing on the blueprint. 

 

They ate in companionable silence, thoughts drifting to the contrast of their opulent surroundings and the apparent disregard its previous owner had paid it. In the front parlor, delicate silk wallpaper lay peeling in strips next to an intricately carved elizabethan fireplace. A fireplace, Remus had noticed, that was being used to store a box of magazines, its mantel home to a collection of garden implements. Damp had crept out from the corner moldings, and a dining table had been brought in to serve as some kind of work station. Amongst all the rabble loomed the shrouded furniture, faded ghosts of a past, happier, life. The few rooms they’d stopped to peek into on their way to the kitchen had all told the same tale. Glimpses of grandeur beneath layers of neglect.  

 

“Divide and conquer is our best plan of action, I think.” Sirius said finally, having cleaned his bowl. He got to his feet and grabbed Remus’ as well on his way to the sink. “Not that we’ll get close to all of it by Monday.”

 

“Probably. We should find the study and set up, though. That’s where the dial-up is.”

 

“Christ, I forgot about that.”

 

“Back to the good old days.” Remus smirked, standing as well and coming up behind Sirius as the taller man set their dishes into the deep sink and ran the water. A hand settled on Sirius’ waist and he leaned in to press a kiss just behind his ear. 

 

“Good old days my arse.” The brunet responded, pressing into the embrace and tilting his head for another kiss. 

 

“Be thankful we have internet at all. I’m going to bring the laptop to the study and see if I can get it hooked up. Come and find me when you’re finished.” Remus gave Sirius’ hip a fond squeeze and bestowed one more peck just below the hairline before drawing back. 

 

“I’ll consider it.” 

 

“Please do.” 

 

Snagging one of their rucksacks off of the island, Remus disappeared into the corridor. 

  
  


The study was truly a breath of fresh air. It appeared that this is where the caretaker had set up camp for their visits. An ancient but functioning desktop was perched upon an antique desk along with a telephone, and despite the rows of shelves, long windows lent an air of space to the room. Small piles here and there of papers and folios were starting to accumulate, but it was marginally organised and much less crowded than Remus had anticipated. 

 

When Sirius joined him ten minutes later, he already had their laptop hooked up to the phone jack. A loud screeching filled the air and he winced. 

 

“God, I could have gone a lifetime without hearing that sound.”

 

“We should be online in what… an hour?” Sirius grinned, coming around and peering out of the windows. Lingering rays of sunlight were just touching the tops of the wall and casting shadows in the wild tangle of weeds and overgrown hedges. The grounds must have been beautiful once. Just like the rest of the place. 

 

“Nope. Here we go. It works. Perfect.” Remus clicked around a bit and then disconnected. After carefully shutting the device, he turned to watch Sirius gaze outside. “Anything interesting?”

 

“I think there’s a maze back there. Hard to tell but I’m ninety-five percent positive.”

 

“We can go look tomorrow. I don’t fancy getting lost in the dark.”

 

“No. Not here.” 

 

They lapsed into silence, both watching as the sun finally sank down past the wall, casting a final bright orange farewell. 

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Nearly gone eight.” Remus replied quietly. 

 

“Perhaps an exploratory jaunt in the parlor? I’m curious as to what the workstation is for.”

 

“Yeah, alright.”

 

Sirius pulled him up from the wheeled chair and they headed back out and down the corridor to the large sitting room. Navigating the carefully constructed towers of things, they arrived before the carved table and stared. 

 

Wire, bits of metal, dowels. Hooks. Feathers. Pliers and other tools were heaped in the corner.

 

“Flies.” Remus announced, reaching to run his fingers across the plumage.

 

“Rupert was a fly fisher.” Sirius echoed. 

 

“I’ll ask Mrs. Maycott what she’d like us to do with it.”

 

Sirius picked his way to the fireplace, glancing inside to inspect the boxes therein. 

 

“National Geographic… decades of them.” He glanced over his shoulder. 

 

“Any look interesting? Bedtime reading?” Remus had pushed up the sleeves of his jumper and was lifting the sheet covering what appeared to be a settee. “Christ, this furniture is gorgeous.” Embroidered silk the colour of a twilit sky, delicately turned wood with floral flourishes. It would need a re-stuffing and a heavy clean, but it was in remarkable condition. 

 

He let the sheet fall back down and felt a shiver run up his spine. An inherent feeling of unease drifted just beneath his skin and he frowned, rubbing at the goosebumps that rose in response.

 

“Alright Remus?” 

 

“Yeah, sorry, thinking.” Remus tugged his sleeves back down and quickly moved to a writing desk shoved up against the wall. Leather bound books were stacked high and he thumbed through them. Ledgers. From his pocket he withdrew his own notebook and made a quick scrawl about the set of furniture. From where he stood he could make out a large sofa, another settee and multiple chairs. Side tables were hidden in the detritus, most used as storage. 

 

“Did the heating suddenly quit?” Sirius had turned from where he’d been leafing through the yellow covers. 

 

“No?” Remus glanced up. 

 

“Oh. Caught a bit of a chill. Gone now though. I should check the thermostat. Do you remember if there’s a fireplace in our room?”

 

“I think there is? You planning on building us a fire?”

 

“I just might. When else are we going to have one in our bedroom?” The brunette flashed his most charming smile. “The kitchen has a pile of wood and kindling. Prepare to be impressed.” He leaned across to capture a quick kiss and then made a run for the hall. Remus watched him go with an amused smile and realised he should have thought to ask if the flue was in working order. 

 

Grabbing a few of the magazines, he too departed, this time for the kitchen. 

  
  


Fifteen minutes later Remus was scaling the grand staircase with a tray containing two mugs, a steaming teapot, and biscuits. Three National Geographics were tucked under his elbow. As he reached the landing a strange feeling brushed over him once again, and he glanced back at the stairs. Nothing but the light shining in from the parlor met his eyes, and he shook his head.

 

“Stop it.” He muttered to himself, face forwards once more, determination in his steps as he climbed the second set and ventured into the second floor corridor. 

 

The door to their room was open, light spilling out, and the feeling of relief in his chest gave him pause. 

 

“Room service.” Remus called, stepping in. 

 

Sirius was sitting cross-legged at the hearth, a fire crackling merrily away behind the grate. 

 

“Well, well. Colour me impressed.”

 

“Told you.” Sirius half turned, eyes glinting and a look of deep satisfaction on his face. A smudge of soot marked his cheek and Remus found his grin widening. After depositing his reading onto the bed, he joined his husband, passing over the tray before dropping down beside him. 

 

Together they fixed their mugs and stared contentedly into the fire. 

 

The bedroom was decidedly Victorian in its decor, and as advertised, very blue. Walls were swathed in a royal blue silk, floral patterns etched into the fabric. Their four-poster bed held drapes of a matching colour and similar textile, a large Persian rug added a few pops of neutral amongst its ultramarine design. Even the extra blankets beneath the coverlet were various shades of the same. 

 

Sirius had tossed their bags onto the trunk at the foot of the bed, and Remus was touched to see that his pajamas were already laid out on the side of the bed he usually slept. 

 

“I like this place.” Sirius spoke up, setting his mug down and holding his hands up to the fire. “...someday we could find one like it. Smaller obviously. An old farmhouse? A small country home. At the very least… we should consider installing a fireplace in our bedroom.”

 

“Right. So proceeds from this go to growing the business and putting away for our own mini manor house.”

 

“And bedroom fireplace.”

 

“Cheers.”

 

“Cheers.” 

 

They clinked their mugs together softly, and once finished, got up and went about preparing for bed.

  
  


Remus blinked up into the darkness, suddenly wide awake. As he listened for a sign of what had woken him, he fumbled his mobile off of the night stand to see the time. Two fifty-three in the morning glared back at him in bright white. Beside him, Sirius was curled onto his side, one hand tangled in the bottom of Remus’ t-shirt. Other than the soft whistle of his sleeping breath, there were no other sounds in the room, and Remus found himself frowning. 

 

_ Something _ had tugged him from within the confines of sleep, but without a single hint as to what, the man found himself growing rapidly more awake and less likely to drop back off. 

 

After staring up into what he assumed to be the canopy of their bed for another five minutes, Remus disentangled Sirius’ hand and gently laid it on the mattress before getting up and stepping into his slippers.

 

It was cold as he crossed the room, barely any embers left in the hearth, and Remus paused to stir them up and place a few pieces of kindling into their depths. Almost immediately it began to catch, and once some heavier wood had been tossed in as well, he stood. 

 

Hazel eyes focused on the half-open door of their room and he waited, unsure why. Despite a need for the loo, he felt a deep reluctance to traverse the threshold. A warning, almost. 

 

_ Don’t be so bloody irrational.  _

 

Steeling himself, he crossed over to the door and peered out into the grand corridor. 

 

Nothing. 

 

“You’re being an idiot.” Remus muttered, stepping out and over into the bathroom, feeling gone.

 

Afterwards, as he washed his hands Remus, peered into the mirror and frowned. Little flecks of white were gathering in the bottom left corner. Using his thumbnail, he scraped at it and was shocked to find it almost seemed like frost. Cold, melting at his touch and then reforming.  “What the hell?” It wasn’t  _ that _ cold. A trip to the window showed surprisingly little draft, nor any frost on the pane itself. Which made no logical sense.

 

And just like earlier, his hackles suddenly rose, skin prickling up and down his arms as he stood there with growing trepidation. Out in the hall a floorboard creaked.

 

“Sirius?”  His eyes narrowed, focusing on the doorknob. There was another creak. His heart stuttered behind his ribs and he reached, fingers resting but not turning the carved glass. 

 

Creak. 

 

And then a very deliberate footfall followed. And then another. 

 

Someone was walking from the far end of the hall toward the bathroom. 

 

“Sirius, I swear to god.” Remus intoned through the heavy wood. As much as he wanted to turn the knob and open the door, part of him resisted. 

 

No answer came.

 

“This isn’t funny, I’m not in the fucking mood.” He called. 

 

The footsteps moved with deliberate slowness past the door and off in the direction of the stairs. 

 

“Open the door.” Remus told himself. “Just...open the fucking door.” 

 

It took a long breath and another soft curse before he finally turned the handle and stared out into the hallway. 

 

Complete silence met him and he glanced first one way and then the other. 

 

Just across the way, he could see flickers of firelight in the doorway of their room and he rushed through, spinning to close the door behind him. Heart hammering, he turned to face the bed and was startled to find Sirius propped up on his elbows, staring. 

 

“Remus… why did you open the window?” Sleep tinged the man’s words, hair in disarray. 

 

“What?”

 

“The window... “ Sirius gestured and Remus glanced across to find the casement window pushed wide open, a chill breeze flowing in. 

 

“I didn’t.” The thing had been firmly closed when he left the room. He was certain. “Are you sure you didn’t-”

 

“The cold woke me. Unless I sleepwalked my way over there, opened it, crawled back into bed and just woke up right now.” As if suddenly taking in Remus’ nervous state he sat up a bit straighter. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing…” 

 

“Where did you go?”

 

“Just to the loo. Maybe I opened it earlier and forgot.” The lie felt wrong on his tongue but he traversed the carpet and pulled the window shut, careful to lock it in place. He could feel Sirius’ gaze on his back and took a quiet breath, reaching to rub his hand over his hair and collect himself. 

 

“You sure you’re alright? You look… shaken.” The darker man was now wide awake, studying Remus as he climbed back into the bed. 

 

“...I didn’t open the window.”

 

“Neither did I.” 

 

“Maybe it just opened on it’s own. Not as though Rupert took care of the place.”

 

“You know as well as I that it wouldn’t.”

 

“Mmm…”

 

“So who opened it?”

 

“A ghost?” Remus tried to inject some humour in the word but Sirius was now staring around the room, face thoughtful. 

 

“Intruder?”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

“We should check anyways. Come on.” He was already climbing out of bed and Remus groaned, following. 

 

An hour later they had nothing to show for their search, and both retired to bed, perplexed and slightly off kilter. 

 

“It’s so strange…” Sirius mused, having banked up the fire and returned to bed. He raised an arm and Remus shifted beneath it, head resting against a cotton-clad chest. 

 

“Maybe just a quirk. All old houses have them.” He muttered, closing his eyes. It felt false saying it, but here in the warmth of the bedroom, with Sirius’ arm around him and the fire crackling behind the grate, everything seemed far away. Like a dream. 

 

“Maybe.” Sirius said softly. 

 

Eventually the two shuffled down in the covers and into an uneasy sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

Their restless night led to it feeling entirely too early when the alarm went off. Despite the autumn sunshine streaming in through the windows, both men groaned and dragged the coverlet over their heads. 

 

Eventually they dragged themselves into the spacious bath across the hall, all thoughts of footsteps and frost gone as they enjoyed a mutual shower. 

 

It was over eggs and toast that Sirius finally brought up the night before. 

 

“Windows like that don’t just unlock themselves without help. I checked it again while you were getting dressed.”

 

“I told you I don’t remember opening it. Maybe it just wasn’t secured when we got here?”

 

“Maybe…” Sirius stirred his tea thoughtfully. “But you were spooked when you came back. I could see it on your face.”

 

Remus shrugged. 

 

“I thought I heard something. But I was half awake.”

 

“Heard what?”

 

“Footsteps. But it’s an old house. It’s falling apart.” 

 

“Hmm…” Sirius studied his face before dipping his head and glancing at the blueprint. “Divide and conquer?”

 

“Only way we’ll get anywhere with just this weekend.” 

 

“I want to keep going through the big parlour. Where do you want to start?”

 

“Drawing room.” Remus replied after a moment. 

 

“Perfect. Meet up for lunch?”

 

“Deal.” 

 

Despite feeling the grit of sleep still in his eyes, he was smiling at the prospect of what they would find. 

 

Sirius still looked slightly concerned as they parted ways in the hall, giving Remus’ hand a quick squeeze before turning and heading towards the main living room. Remus followed for a few feet before turning off into the small parlour and through an adjacent door into the drawing room.

 

As he edged his way in, Remus was surprised by the sheer variety of things that Rupert had used as storage containers. The usual boxes, crates, and bags were there, but among them was a wheelbarrow which should have been impossible to get through the door, several pots and pans, and three suitcases. None of which contained clothing. 

 

“Well Rupert, you’re interesting, if anything.” He said, grabbing the closest cardboard box and setting it on the one uncluttered chair left. A quick perusal showed old property records, various tax documents, and a few printed emails.Two more proved similar. 

 

Another contained envelopes with personal correspondence, and despite initial misgivings, he began to unfold a few and read. In spite of, and probably with intent to spite the modern age, it seemed Rupert Maycott refused to use anything but written letters and a landline telephone for communication. If some of the contents were anything to go by, he also went out of his way to discourage people from visiting. 

 

Half an hour went by in that manner, and eventually Remus set everything back inside, moving the box to a ‘checked’ pile he had begun to organise in the corner. 

 

Next he grabbed one of the suitcases and found it unlocked. 

 

Inside were photo albums. Interest pricked up his spine and he dug down to find the oldest looking book. As he did, he thought he heard something in the other room and paused, glancing over his shoulder. 

 

“Sirius?”

 

A beat of silence followed and he frowned, turning back around to his find. 

 

Thump.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Setting the album down, he ventured to the door and peered out into the parlour. Nothing. “I’m losing my mind.”

 

Retreating back into the drawing room, Remus reached for the album again. Just as his fingers brushed the spine, there was another thump. This time it was inside the room. Soft but distinct and somewhere in the vicinity of the small fireplace. He forced his thoughts toward the possibility of an animal having made its way into the house and steeled himself to go and investigate. 

 

The kicking and shaking of boxes brought no more noise. 

 

“Remus…?” 

 

“What?” Spinning around, he was shocked to find the doorway empty and froze. His hair stood on end, heart coming to a stuttering half before starting up again at a ridiculous pace. The parlour stood empty, everything as it was and a glance into the corridor showed it to be free of people. 

 

“Sirius?!” He shouted. A few seconds later the man in question stuck his head out of the main parlour. 

 

“Yeah, babe?”

 

“...did you just call me?”

 

“No?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, positive. I’m going through the desks. Why?”

 

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

 

“...” Sirius stared Remus up and down. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing. I got caught up in what I was doing. Don’t worry about it. Uh… see you at lunch.” Before Sirius could probe more deeply, Remus retreated and went back into the drawing room. 

 

He braced himself on the side table and inhaled deeply. The only sounds in the room were the juddering of his heart in his ears and the purposely even rhythm of his breath. When there were no mystery noises or the calling of his name, Remus shook himself and purposefully strode toward the corner he hadn’t yet explored. 

  
  
  


In the other room, Sirius had spent an uneventful hour and a half cataloguing the contents of the writing desk and had moved on to a tastefully carved curio that matched the midnight furniture. 

 

Notebook open beside him, he scrawled something on his list. The china on display was worth a small fortune, if he was right. Setting down the pen, he took a step back and stretched, arms up above his head as high as he could reach. 

 

Whack!

 

Something connected hard with his arm and he spun around with a curse. At his feet lay one of the small spades from the mantel. 

 

“...the fuck?” Bending, he grasped it and cursed again at the frigid temperature of the handle. Grey eyes narrowed at the empty space it had previously rested, and he struggled to come up with a plausible reason as to why an object in an empty room might fly at him. Any conclusions veering towards the unexplainable were quickly discarded. He shoved away thoughts of Remus’ behaviour the night before and half an hour earlier.

 

Instead, he crossed the room and set it back on the mantel with a deliberately steady hand. 

 

There was a rational answer in there somewhere… but hell if he could think of it. 

 

“Weird place…” He muttered and went back to where he was. Next to the number of saucers he added ‘mint condition’ and a quick sketch before moving on to the next item. 

 

He made it nearly to the next shelf before the chair beside him made a sharp turn and was seemingly yanked out from under the desk by two feet. The problem was that there was no one there to do it. 

 

Sirius’ surprised yelp was loud in the silence. 

 

Instantly, he was on his hands and knees, checking for trip wires or strings. He tilted the chair to look for magnets, ignoring the fact that the floors were far too thick and that there wasn’t a cellar beneath them. He lifted up the chair, grunting at the weight of it, and shook it. 

 

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Glaring now, he set the chair down and put his hands on his hips. 

 

It sat there innocently, no movement. Sirius pondered a hidden mechanism in the floor. 

 

Except who would want to scare them? Why? 

 

Some deranged relative desperate to keep the property? A squatter? Neighbor looking for a laugh?

 

Angry, he turned back towards the display cabinets and froze. Every single drawer and glass front was wide open, china re-arranged into the piles they had been prior to Sirius’ inventory. 

 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Sirius reached out to touch the plates, and as with the spade, the porcelain was ice cold. He moved further down, fingers brushing over the silver artfully laid out in the drawer, plush velvet cushioning the heirlooms.

 

CRACK!

 

The drawer slammed shut with the speed of a bear trap. 

 

Sheer luck was the only reason he kept his fingers.

 

“That’s it! Whoever the fuck you are, I am going to find you and kick your damned arse!” Sirius clutched his hand to his chest in shock. Beside him, a box toppled over. He skittered sideways, away from the spilled books, eyes darting madly. It only took a moment’s contemplation for him to decide on retreat as the best option. 

 

Out in the corridor he tried to catch his breath, unwilling to turn his back on the wide parlour entry. 

 

“Sirius are-”

 

“WHAT?!” The brunet swung around to find a wide-eyed Remus looking more than a little worried. “Shite… sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

 

“What the hell happened?” 

 

“Nothing.”

 

“I heard shouting… are you hurt?” Remus reached for the hand Sirius was cradling against his chest, ignoring protests as he searched for signs of injury. None found, he peered into Sirius’ face before looking past him at the mess. 

 

“Can we go for a walk? It’s beautiful outside.”

 

“...alright. But you’re going to tell me what happened.”

 

“Yeah, fine. Same deal. You’ll tell me why you thought I was talking to you. Come on.” He grasped Remus by the hand and practically dragged him to the front hall where they’d stored their coats and boots the night before. 

 

It was sunny when they stepped outside, adding a warmth to the chill in the air and making what leaves remained glow. Sirius focused on the bright oranges and reds as they crunched their way down the path and toward the back of the estate. 

 

“We can see if that’s really a maze back there.” He suggested, hooking his arm through Remus’. 

 

“We can, yeah. After you tell me what happened.” Remus was still wearing his reading glasses and he squinted in the light, reaching to shove them up into the mess of waves upon his head. Sirius felt a ridiculous flush of fondness and leaned over to steal a quick peck. 

 

“I want you to tell me first.”

 

They had rounded the last corner of the house and paused. 

 

The garden would have been a wonder in its prime. An arcade of silver birch wound its way through to overgrown hedgerows that broke off into different sections. 

 

They took the path left into a gravelled square, a knot garden taking pride of place in the center. Remus paused to look at the miniature geometric arrangement, mentally folding back the extra branches and trimming the dense shrubbery. A plinth in the middle held a round topiary, bare in the fall weather. “Is this your maze?”

 

“I don’t think so… possibly. Who called your name?”

 

“I have no idea.” 

 

Empty branches hung overhead as they finally moved on into the next area, still geometric but much more whimsical. Sirius recognised some of the plants, though none were flowering, and an alcove in the hedge held a stone bench. Romantic, if it weren’t for the almost menacing air. 

 

Something was setting his teeth on edge and he pulled Remus closer. 

 

“Start from the beginning. Last night. And then today.” 

 

Remus sighed, kicking at a branch. 

 

“I woke up. No idea why but… something felt off. Got up to use the bathroom, it was freezing. There was frost on the mirror. I could hear someone in the hall. Footsteps. Really fucking deliberate footsteps walking from one end to the other. Then when they stopped, and I ran back to the bedroom, the window was open and I didn’t open it. Today it sounded like someone was kicking things in the drawing room. Shaking the stacks. I thought I could hear someone in the small parlour but whenever I checked, it was empty. Same feeling again, creeped out, hair on end, and then someone said my name.” He said it all in a rush, staring at the ground. 

 

“...and no one was there?”

 

“No. Absolutely no one. And I didn’t mishear it. It was very clearly my name. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman or… but it was my name.” 

 

“...right. That’s unsettling.”

 

“Yeah. Bloody disturbing.” 

 

Sirius moved his arm from around Remus’ elbow to around his waist, tugging him in. 

 

“Someone threw a spade at me and tried to break my fingers.” 

 

Remus came to a complete stop. 

 

“What?”

 

“...I was working through the china. All those gardening things on the mantel? The spade flew off and hit me in the arm. Then someone yanked out the desk chair. I was trying to figure out what the hell was happening and then I turn back and find every single door and drawer open on the display cabinet. And all of the china re-arranged to how it had been before I’d looked it over. I checked the silver, and as I did, the drawer slammed shut. Thank fuck for reflexes.” He brush the hair from his face, a chill running over him as he recalled the helplessness as the books toppled over next to him. “Swore at whatever it was, and then a box fell. That’s when you called me.”

 

“So we’re… in a haunted manor. In the middle of the country. With nobody around for miles.”

 

“Not quite.” A new voice chimed in. 

 

Both men jumped, instantly on their guard. 

 

An older gentleman had come around the corner. He was dressed like a country squire fallen on bad times. Tweeds torn and stained cap in disrepair. 

 

“Can we help you?” Remus spoke first, having gathered himself. 

 

“I heard Georgina was getting someone up here to look through Rupert’s things. Wanted to see how you’re getting along.”

 

Sirius arched a brow. 

 

“I’m sorry, you are…?”

 

“Reginald Ashcroft. Reggie. One of Rupe’s friends. One of the only, really. Old bastard didn’t like much company, but we got on well enough. I was sorry to see him go.” Reginald mimicked Sirius’ expression with an arch of his own. “And yourselves?”

 

“Lupin and Black. Estate liquidation and antiques.” Sirius replied.

 

“Lupin,” Remus added, holding out his hand. 

 

“And Black.” Sirius finished. 

 

“So you’ve met the ghosts, then?” Reginald shook their hands and crossed his arms, leaning back to stare at them. Sirius frowned. 

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say ghosts. We’ve met… something.” There was a hint of suspicion on his handsome face and Remus frowned, glancing between the pair. 

 

“Ghosts?”

 

“ Aye, Ghosts.” 

 

“Do you happen to know who they are? Why they’re here?”

 

“No. They gave Rupert no end of trouble, but the last few years… they seemed to find an accord. Just moving his things around, noises here and there. I saw it once. Lifted his breakfast clear off the table and dropped it on the floor. Told me they must not like it when he has guests. Fair point, since there are rarely any. Spoke with the girl they had coming out to check on him and she said after two weeks there she shouted into the parlor that she would only be there briefly, that she needed the study and that if they could please just leave her alone she would leave them alone. Apparently it worked.”

 

“...I’m sure it did.” Sirius looked less than convinced. 

 

“Where do you live Reginald?”

 

“...down the road. Drove up but you didn’t answer the bell so I came around back. Wanted to see how it went.”

 

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but we were just about to head back inside, so thank you for the warning, we’ll keep it in mind.” Sirius extended his hand once more and pasted a friendly smile on his face. Reginald took the hand but there was a knowing glint in his eye as he shook it. 

 

“Nice to meet you, lads. Put in a word with Georgina about me and those flies. We spent years making those together.”

 

“I will definitely let her know.” Remus replied, also shaking his hand. 

 

They stood there until he was gone from sight. 

 

“Well, that was… interesting.” Sirius said, turning back the way they came. Remus followed. 

 

“Interesting? It backs up what happened to us.” 

 

“Yeah. Maybe that’s what he wants us to think. Ghosts aren’t the obvious conclusion to jump to.”

 

“...so the cabinet just opened and rearranged itself in the space of a minute with no supernatural help. Yeah, that’s plausible.”

 

“Or someone is trying to scare us off.”

 

“Why in the hell would someone want to scare us off?. We’re just the appraisal guys. There’s no point in it.”

 

“Maybe there’s something they don’t want us to find, or something they want to find first. Maybe they want to make the place seem uninhabitable so they can buy it off of the Maycott’s. There are a thousand reasons, Remus. Come on…” 

 

They passed through the front door.

 

“But is it really such a stretch that there may be something not quite of our world at play here? There are documented cases from all over the world-”

 

“Right. But why jump to ghosts right away? Hear hoofbeats and think zebra? Or whatever the bloody fuck that saying is. Let’s start with normal, not paranormal. Now. Are you going back to the drawing room or do you want to take a crack at somewhere new?”

 

“...Christ you’re stubborn.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“It wasn’t a compliment.”


	4. Chapter Four

“...so what kind of tricks would one use to switch the cabinet around?” 

 

It had grown dark and the pair were enjoying a late supper in the kitchen. Shepherd's pie. 

 

“Wires, string, magnets.’ Sirius answered. “Timers. Hidden mechanisms…”

 

“...well you’ve become quite the expert.”

 

“I just thought about what I would do if I were the one who was trying to trick someone.” 

 

“Mmm… but let’s pretend, just for one minute, that it is a haunting.”

 

“Remus, if you put your mind to it, you would most certainly come up with even better and more elaborate ways to make someone believe there was a ghost. Someone wants to spook us. It’s working. I’m not letting whoever it is get even deeper under my skin. Now,” He pushed his empty plate to the middle of the table. “I’m going to go type up everything we got done today and email the solicitor the list.”

 

“...I’ll take a look around the bedroom next to ours. I saw some jewelry boxes. And then I’m going to draw a bath and soak.”

 

“When you get to that part, I’ll probably come and find you.”

 

“Bring extra towels.”

 

“Warm ones?”

 

“Preferably.” 

  
  


Half an hour later, Remus found himself in the aforementioned bedroom, three jewelry boxes open before him. At his elbow was his notebook and camera. 

 

Between index and thumb he held a sapphire ring of Edwardian style. Tilting his head down, he peered at the faded inscription inside, huffing out a breath. As he did his breath solidified into a cloud, fogging the blue stone. Dread settled under his skin as the air around him became glacial in temperature. 

 

Very carefully, he set the ring back into its velvet padding and turned to survey the room. Something shifted in the corner. A soft sound. 

 

“Hello?” Remus tried to keep his voice quiet, non-threatening. 

 

Across the way he heard the patter of footsteps. Small ones.

 

“I just want… to talk. To speak with you.” 

 

A stack of boxes in the corner tilted and then the top one fell as though nudged. 

 

Remus swallowed, breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm his nerves. 

 

It didn’t work. 

 

Instead, he shoved his shaking hands into his pockets and slowly began to cross the room, eyes trained on that solitary tower of containers. 

 

“Hello?” He tried again, voice trapped in his throat. It came out as more of a rasp than actual words. No one answered, and with one final breath, Remus stuck his head around the corner and nearly cried out. 

 

Crouched against the floral wallpaper was a small child.

_ Okay...okay...fuck. Breathe. Don’t run.  _

 

A pale face glanced up at him, short cropped hair dark and messy. The clothes were at least a century old, probably more. Short trousers, suspenders, a button missing from the shirt. He was missing his shoes, bare toes nearly white against the hardwood. 

 

His eyes, when he finally looked up, were smudged with black, but in the dull light Remus saw pain. Fear. Heartbreak. 

 

“Hello…” Remus tried again. Whatever small part of him wasn’t terrified was compelled to try and help. “What can I-oh fuck!” 

 

Suddenly the man found himself staring into empty space, all traces of the child gone. 

 

A quick search proved fruitless and he ran out into the hall. 

 

“I can help you! I can try!” He called out. “Please just…” Trailing off, he strained his ear and was positive he heard running footfalls. Faint, but there. Following, he was surprised to find himself at the door to his and Sirius’ bedroom. “Hey… it’s alright… don’t be afraid…” Unsure if he was talking to himself, or to the boy, Remus turned the handle and stepped inside.  

 

Empty. 

 

“Shit.” 

 

He crossed over to the bed and sank down, body humming with adrenaline. Something hard dug into his hip and he reached, fingers closing around what felt like a book. As he dragged it out, prepared to toss it towards the pillows, he caught sight of the spine and a frisson slithered over his skin. 

 

It was a photo album.  _ The  _ photo album he’d nearly opened that morning. 

 

“...” Again he found himself forcing a breath, trying to calm the hammering of his heart as he placed the album in his lap and opened the cover. ‘1889’ was written in a very educated hand across the paper. Tacked to the yellowed sheafs within were black and white photographs of the estate. 

 

Halfway through he came upon a large photograph of what he was fairly confident were the staff. Arranged in rows upon the front steps, faces set, and in the uniform of those in service. Remus studied their faces, peering intently at the small set of children in the very front. 

 

“Is that you?” He asked aloud, index resting just below the face of a small boy. It was too far away to see the details, but the shape of the jaw, the cut of the hair, they were familiar.  He stared at it until he felt cross-eyed. The next four pages were smaller shots, lesser groups of people and he studied each until his hand froze over the fifth page. A family of three in the upper corner had caught his attention. The father was tall, thin. Dressed as though he worked the grounds. His wife came up to his shoulder, a white apron over her uniform. But it was the boy between them that had caught Remus’ attention. 

 

“There you are…” He plucked the photo from its corner stays and flipped it over. Blank. With a small curse, he tucked it back in, got up, and headed for the door with the album under his arm. 

 

“Sirius?!” Remus paused at the bottom of the stairs, eyes zeroing in on the light shining out from the office. 

 

Sirius met him in the doorway. 

 

“What? You alright?”

 

“No. Come to the kitchen. I need a drink.” 

 

In the kitchen, a rifle through the cabinets found a half bottle of very good whisky, and Remus poured them both a generous portion. 

 

“Well?” Sirius had reached across the table to cover Remus’ hand with his own. He stroked at the skin with the pad of his thumb. 

 

“...it’s not a trick. It’s a ghost, no-” Remus held his free hand up to cut off whatever Sirius had opened his mouth to say. “I saw it. Him. He’s a little boy.” 

 

Remus told Sirius everything that had happened up in the bedroom and when he’d finished, he drained his cup and waited.

 

“So… we need to leave.”

 

“We aren’t leaving. He’s just a child. He needs help. You should have seen his face. He was fucking terrified.” Remus pushed the photo album back across the island towards Sirius, pointing. “Look at him. That’s the boy I saw. Whatever it is he wants, it’s important. He’s been trying to get my attention, to show me.”

 

“He also tried to break my fingers. And throw things at me.”

 

“Maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe that’s what we have to fix?”

 

“I really love that you want to help. One of the things I adore about you is that you feel the need to help every single little thing that crosses our path. But I want to get out of this job with all limbs intact. If whatever it is likes you, it obviously hates me. We need to leave. We can opt out. Can’t miss money we never had.” Sirius pushed himself up from his stool and began to pace. 

 

“I’m not leaving. I want to help him. He’s a child. Can’t be older than six or seven. Ghost or no, he needs help.”

 

“Remus-”

 

“I’m staying.”

 

“It isn’t safe-”

 

“I’m not leaving. And if I’m not leaving, I know you aren’t.”

 

“No… I’m not.” Sirius sighed and moved around the table to sink down next to Remus. “So what’s the plan?”

 

“Find out what he wants. What they want. Figure out who they are. What’s the term they always use? Crossover?”

 

“Yeah. It can’t be great being stuck in limbo, nowhere to go or no idea what’s going on around you.” 

 

“Exactly.” Remus clasped his hand. “ Think of it as… a bonus service?”

 

“Right. Because I’m sure they’ll admit to locking us in a haunted Manor for the weekend.”

 

“The NDA. Do you think..?”

 

“I wouldn’t put it past them.”

 

“Fuck… right. So we fix it, we surprise them. We help the boy.” 

 

“Alright. But first, to bed. I am exhausted. Today was… a lot.”

 

“Yeah. I might’ve aged ten years in that bedroom.”

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll look good with silver in your hair.”

 

“Will I?” Remus chuckled. 

 

“Yeah. I can see into the future. You look fabulous.”

 

“Oh well, I suppose I can sleep at night now, knowing that.”

 

“Thought you would.” Sirius leaned over to steal a quick kiss and then stood, dragging Remus with him. “Come on…”


	5. Chapter Five

At one thirty-two AM, Sirius awoke convinced that the ceiling was falling in on them. Beside him, Remus jerked up with a startled curse as another smash sounded above. 

 

“What the fucking hell-”

 

“They’re wrecking the place!” Sirius ripped back the blankets and practically fell out bed, Remus scrambling to his feet in a similar fashion. 

 

The noise was deafening. Doors slamming, stomping, what sounded like furniture being thrown around. One shared look was enough to send them both running for the corridor, but as soon as they crossed the threshold, everything fell silent. Eerily so. No old house sounds, no nocturnal creatures outside. Even the pendulum clock had stopped ticking. 

 

“...this… is not…” Sirius muttered

 

“No.” Remus agreed, panting. 

 

“We-”

 

“Shh…” Remus held up his hand, cocking his head. At the far end of the corridor, he could see the handle of a door slowly turn with a creak of protest, and then the door itself swung open. 

 

“Ohh no. We are not-”

 

“We are.”

 

“Remus, I am not-”

 

“I am.”

 

“Remus-”

 

The man in question shook his head and held out his hand. 

 

“This is fucking stupid. We’re going to die.’ Sirius hissed, but he took the hand and was comforted to realise that Remus was shaking just as much as himself. 

 

Together they approached and paused, peering into the darkness. “Attic stair.” Remus whispered, using his free hand to search the wall until his fingers found a switch. Dim light washed down, illuminating the old wooden steps. With a deep breath, Remus steeled himself and began to climb, Sirius right behind. 

 

A low, tight hallway spread out on either side of the landing, and they paused, unsure of where to turn. Until another light clicked on to the left. “Right…”

 

Crates of junk were shoved up against walls of the increasingly small space, old walls rotten with age and barely patched. Remus thought he could see swathes of darkness across the wood. Almost like scorch marks. He paused briefly to touch an exposed beam. Beneath the smell of damp, he thought he could sense smoke. 

 

They followed, one more door opening and another short flight of stairs revealing itself until they finally found themselves in a room tucked up under the eaves, large enough for perhaps two people, if one could fit in two pallet beds and a tiny chest of drawers. Clearly they had entered the servants’ quarters. 

 

“There’s barely enough room to breathe in here.” Sirius whispered, afraid to raise his voice. 

 

“They shoved whole families into these. You only ever came up here to sleep. Upper classes didn’t see the need to give them more room.”

 

“Yeah but-”

 

The door slammed shut behind them with a bang, and both men cried out, spinning around. 

 

“Fuck-”

 

And suddenly it was hot. Too hot, suffocatingly hot. Remus could barely breathe. Beside him, Sirius began to cough. Something bright flashed around them and he was horrified to realise flames were climbing up the walls. 

 

“Oh, god. Fuck fuck fuck… Remus!” Sirius shouted, grabbing him without any idea of how to protect him. Raw terror locked his voice in his throat and he spun around desperate for escape. 

 

All around them the fire climbed, disintegrating the walls and blackening wood. Smoke choked them. 

 

“I’m… I’m going to grab the door.” Remus rasped, sweat streaking down his face. 

 

“No!”

 

“It’s… our only hope!” 

 

“Then I will!”

 

For a fleeting second, Remus wondered if it was smarter to just breathe it in. To die before the flames could burn them.  _ No. _

 

Eyes stinging, he stared across and realised with a start that someone was staring back at him with anger.

 

“Sirius-”

 

All at once, it was gone. 

 

No flames, no smoke. 

 

Just them clinging to each other with shaking limbs and sweat-soaked skin. The stench of burnt wood and paint hung in the air, and both men felt raw with it. Burning throats, leaking eyes and pounding hearts. 

 

The door swung open and the sound of heavy boots stomped off down the hall. 

 

“Are you… did you get burnt? Is there… are you all right?” Remus grasped the sides of Sirius’ face, peering into his eyes and then reaching for whatever inch of skin he could touchreach, searching. Sirius was doing the same. 

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Fucking angry. Scared shitless. But… fine. You-”

 

“Same. I’m the same. Jesus fucking Christ…” 

 

Still clinging, they ran on unsteady legs down the stairs, through the warren, and spilled out onto the second floor. 

 

“Whisky.” Sirius husked.

 

“God, yes.” Remus nodded and they continued on down to the kitchen where each filled their mugs to the top. 

 

Five minutes of silence ticked by as they both struggled to gather themselves, sitting hip to hip, staring down at the worktop. 

 

“So… there was a fire.” Remus said finally. 

 

“I don’t care. We’re leaving.”

 

Remus didn’t reply at first, instead taking a heavy drink and savouring the different kind of burn as it travelled down through his chest. 

 

“I can’t.”

 

“They just tried to kill us. I know you want to help, I know you think you can do good here, but I cannot risk our lives, your life.” Sirius turned slightly, eyes red. Remus shook his head. 

 

“I think he was trying to show us. It was the father. Right before the flames went out, I could see him on the other side. He looked furious.”

 

“Yeah. Because he wants to fucking kill us!”

 

“Sirius, I can’t leave. I feel…”

 

“Remus-”

 

“I can’t. If you want to go, go. I won’t be angry, but I need to help him.”

 

A sigh of frustration left Sirius and he slumped over. 

 

“I can’t leave you here. You know that.”

 

“...I know. But I thought I should make the offer.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“Is it strange being the one saying it for once?”

 

“Bit, yeah.”

 

“You should go into the town tomorrow, look up any records on the house. I’ll see what I can find here. Ledgers, staff records. Clearly there was a fire. If they died in it, it had to happen during or after 1889.”

 

“If you think I’m leaving you here alone while I go off-”

 

“That’s the first anger they’ve shown towards me. I think… you’d be in more danger. Better for you to go. Maybe the boy will try and communicate with me if I’m alone.”

 

Sirius’ uncharacteristic silence was answer enough. 

 

“...we never had that bath.” He said finally. “The tub across the hall is gigantic.”

 

“Is there wine? That seems classier. And we drank all the whiskey.” 

 

“I’ll look. At least if he tries to set us on fire, we’ll be in the water.” Sirius raised Remus’ hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the sooty knuckles. “I’ll find wine and snacks. You start the water?”

 

“Deal.” 


	6. Chapter Six

After a long soak, a bottle of wine, and some surprisingly edible crackers, Remus and Sirius managed to crawl back into their bed and sleep for a few hours. When they woke, sun was blazing through the windows and blessed silence reigned. 

 

“It feels like it was a nightmare. Like none of it really happened.” Sirius murmured into the pillow, rolling over until he came to a stop against Remus’ side. Curling up, he rested his head on Remus’ stomach. When a hand automatically began to card through his hair, he let out a contented sigh. “...I just want to stay in bed. Not go anywhere…”

 

“I know…” Remus’ voice was husky with sleep, but Sirius recognised the edge of determination just beneath and knew that a lie-in was completely out of the question. 

 

“...our mobiles still have a few bars of reception. Keep yours with you while I’m gone.”

 

“I promise. If I lose my data, I’ll call you on the landline. And if I don’t answer you on the mobile, call the landline before you panic and drive back here.”

 

“Right.”

 

A quick breakfast of eggs and toast was thrown together, and Sirius got ready to head out. It took multiple warnings to be careful and another reiteration of the phone rules, but he eventually climbed into their landrover and disappeared in the direction of town. 

 

Alone, Remus spent time tidying away the dishes and making another cup of tea. Being by himself in the house was far more daunting in reality than it had been in discussion, and he found himself sitting at the island and slowly draining his mug before finally forcing himself up and out of the kitchen. 

 

He ventured back upstairs and to the front bedroom in which the boy had appeared. Camera, notebook, and mobile in hand, Remus reopened the jewelry boxes of the night before. Carefully, he laid out the same pieces and began to catalogue those left inside. 

 

Time ticked by while he took photos and jotted down notes and thoughts. 

 

The cold crept up on him this time. There was no instant freeze. Gradually the temperature dropped until his breath puffed out in white clouds.

 

“I’m just waiting for you… no pressure. Er… whenever you’re ready.” Remus spoke, fingers aching around an ornate silver bangle. Behind him, he thought he heard the rustle of fabric, but a quick check in the mirror showed nothing. He hummed under his breath, picking out a brooch. 

 

“Remus?”

 

Remus froze, fighting the stutter of his heart. The brooch was very deliberately set back down and he turned towards the open doorway. It was empty. 

 

“I’m right here.”

 

Tiny footfalls in the hall tapered off, and he followed, positive he heard his name again. 

 

Down the stairs, towards the kitchen.

 

He came to a stop in the doorway, startled still, somehow, by the very real figure of the little boy standing there. 

 

He was at the island, one small hand resting on the wooden top and looking for all the world as though he were a real flesh and blood child. 

 

“...I’m sorry.” The voice was small as well, worried. 

 

“For what?” Remus asked, feeling the muscles in his neck and chest minutely begin to relax. 

 

“...he didn’t mean it. He’s angry. I tried to stop him.” 

 

It took everything in Remus not to jump when the boy flickered briefly into nothingness and then resolved back. Above all, he did not want to show the ghost that he was scared. Somehow, he knew that being afraid would shatter their fragile connection. 

 

“The fire? It’s all right. We aren’t mad. We want to help you. It was your… father?”

 

“He’s… sad.” The boy mumbled, that one hand inching towards the photo album that was still laid out across the counter. Remus took a step forward, and then another when the boy didn’t disappear. “We lost her.”

 

“Lost who?” Remus moved closer until barely a foot separated them.

 

The boy let his hand linger on the cover, tentative, before he moved to open it. 

 

Pages flickered with superhuman speed and fell open to the photo that Remus had shown Sirius the night before.

 

“We can’t find her.” Carefully, almost reverently, the boy ran a finger over the image of the woman in the photo.

 

“...I’m sorry.” Remus felt the urge to rest a hand on the tiny shoulder but refrained. “If you tell me her name, your name. I can try and find her?” 

 

Above there was a loud crash and both glanced up. 

 

“I have to go.”

 

“Wait, tell-”

 

And suddenly, he was alone. There was no boy, no icy chill. He could hear the fire crackling in the grate of the small fireplace. 

 

“Shit.” Remus rubbed a hand over his face and frowned down at the photo. 

 

Finding records in the vast amount of detritus would be nearly impossible. Sirius would have better luck in town with actual resources. Better that he keep doing an inventory so that there was actual work to show for their time. 

 

When Sirius called to check in an hour later, Remus relayed the information about his encounter. Sirius wanted to come back immediately, but Remus refused, telling him to stay in town and look into the mother. 

 

And so, Remus went back upstairs to finish the jewelry in the bedroom.


	7. Chapter Seven

“Remus!” Sirius’ voice boomed from the entrance hall, and the man in question lifted his head with a fond smile. “Where are you?!” 

 

“Sorting books!” He replied and came out onto the landing where Sirius could see him. 

 

“Well, stop. I have things. Lots of things. No wonder the poor fucker tried to set us on fire. Come on, kitchen.” Sirius lifted his bulging rucksack as if to illustrate the point before marching off. 

 

As he began to unpack and spread out a multitude of photocopies across the Island, Remus put on the kettle and turned to watch him.

 

“Lots of things, hm?”

 

“Yes. So, as you may have guessed, there was a fire here. In 1890.”

 

“A year after that photo was taken.”

 

“Yes. But, from the start. I went through the census from that year and got a match. The Corbett Family. He was the head gardiner, she was a cook. Their son was six that year. Sorry, names. Right. Charles was the father, Mary the mother, Thomas the little boy.” A paper was shoved towards Remus who peered at the hard to read scrawl. Sirius had highlighted the relevant names and dates. 

 

“Thomas.”

 

“Thomas Corbett.”

 

“Poor kid.”

 

“Right, so there was a fire. It was hard to find any sources, but I think they blamed it on a fallen lantern. Around ten PM.” A newspaper article was slapped down next to the census. “...started in the servants quarters. Five dead. Including Charles and Thomas.”

 

“Not Mary?” 

 

“From what I gather, she wasn’t upstairs when it happened. If one of the family members wanted a midnight snack, cook staff had to get up and supply it. My theory is that she was doing that maybe? Or the loo or… whatever. She wasn’t up there. Whole place is wood framing, much less solid than the rest of the house, so it went up like kindling.”

 

Behind them, the kettle whistled.

 

“So her family died. Jesus.”

 

“Yeah… she got burned, though. Again, sketchy details. Only a mention that the wife of one of the deceased was injured. Not hard to think she would run up there to try and get to them?”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“Left the family’s service. Moved. Worked for a smaller home in a larger city. Died of old age at a home.”

 

Remus set out the mugs and tea in the one small space Sirius cleared and slid onto a stool. 

 

“So… they died horribly, violently, without her. Now they’re… earthbound?” Remus hazarded a guess. 

 

“That was my thinking. Here.” From within the bottomless rucksack, Sirius pulled out a second stack of papers and two books. One was an encyclopedia of the paranormal. The other, a ghost hunting guide. 

 

“You  _ have _ been busy.” Remus grinned, skimming the first paper in the stack. Various types of spirits and how to communicate with them was outlined. 

 

“I have. I am more than a pretty face and a sparkling wit.”

 

“Of course you are. There was a roast on the table when I came down earlier. I guess the caretaker doesn’t think we can feed ourselves. Hungry?”

 

“Always.” 

 

“What I don’t get… I’ve read that spirits, ghosts, what have you, they can come and collect the earthbound ones. Loved ones. So if she passed over, why didn’t she come to get them?”

 

“Maybe she isn’t crossed over? Maybe she doesn’t know where they are? Who knows.”

 

“That sounds fucking awful… losing your spouse and child. Living with that loss for a long life and then finally dying and they aren’t there to greet you.”

 

“So, we have to figure out where she is and how the hell we reunite them. And we have to return some evidence of work because I doubt Georgina Maycott will accept that we became  _ after _ life coaches.”

 

“And there’s the pun.”

 

“Did you truly expect me to leave one out.”

 

“Of course not. You wouldn’t be you, otherwise.” Remus smirked. “So… we read these tonight, and figure out how to… find her? Summon her?”

 

“Summoning spirits in a fucking manor in the middle of the countryside.” Sirius shook his head, hair falling to obscure his vision briefly. Remus reached across to tuck it behind his ear, and Sirius caught his hand. He pressed a kiss to the palm and smiled, resting his cheek there. “You don’t happen to know someone who can do this for us? We can take a vacation… have time alone? Everytime I think of touching you, I remember there’s a little Victorian boy watching us and he’d be scarred for life.”

 

Remus chuckled, fingertips burying themselves as far as they could in the dark strands to rub at the scalp beneath. Sirius practically melted into his hand. 

 

“You’re being very noble. Usually it doesn’t matter who’s possibly able to hear or watch, hm?”

 

“I believe you’re the one who enjoys it when you know others can hear or watch, hm?”

 

Remus grinned, with a shrug that implied Sirius was entirely correct. “But not children.”

 

“No. Not children.” Sirius let go of his wrist and gave a long stretch. 

 

“Supper in bed? While we go through these?”

 

“Sounds good. I’ll find a tray. Better be something fancy.”

 

Half an hour later, they were sitting cross-legged on their bed with a silver tray and some beer. Sirius’ photocopies were spread out around them, covering nearly every inch of the coverlet. 

 

“...most of these involve acquiring copious amounts of blood and calling on the devil.” Remus pointed out, bottle resting against his lips as he tossed yet another paper to the side. 

 

“Since when are you religious?”

 

“I’m not, not really. It just seems extreme. And blood?”

 

“Butcher’s shop?”

 

“Now that we know the whole afterlife and ghosts thing are real, I don’t really fancy summoning something awful by mistake.”

 

“Fair… I mean, there’s mention of protecting yourself beforehand. All kinds of helpful pointers.”

 

“Do you think the protection works if you don’t have any beliefs?”

 

“We have some. I mean, we believe in this? And we’ve seen actual ghosts.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose.”

 

They lapsed into silence, Sirius with a large book open in his lap and Remus grabbing another stack of printouts. 

 

“Hey, I think I found something.” Remus spoke up. “It’s from… the third or fourth century. Palestinian, from an old Grimoire. No blood, no bones, no satan. You just need honey, oil, a new glass bowl, and a candle. Which we have here. We just need to find a graveyard.”

 

“A random one or  _ her _ grave?”

 

“It just says ‘a tomb’. I think we can go anywhere. There was one beside the church when we drove here. We can go there.”

 

“Let me see.” Sirius tugged the paper away. “...angels of the fifth camp?”

 

“It says use whoever you think of as protectors. We can just do… archangels or something. The incantation says you ‘blank son of blank’ but we have no idea who her parents are…”

 

“So we change it? Mary Corbett, wife of Charles Corbett.”

 

“...this is completely doable and no need to stop at the butcher shop for a bucket of blood.”

 

“Right. I suppose it’s fitting that we’re doing this in the middle of the night.” Sirius gestured at the dark outside of their window.

 

“We don’t do things by halves.”

 

“Never.” They grinned across at each other and clinked their bottles together. 

 

“Okay. Let’s eat, get what we need, and head out.”

  
  


Finding a new glass bowl took more time than they’d anticipated. As Sirius was suggesting a run into town, Remus found a box containing a bowl shaped vase that had never been taken out and used. “GOT IT!” He called out from behind a stack of other boxed items. “It’s a vase, but it’s shaped like a bowl and it’s glass and this box has never been opened. Did you get the honey and the oil?”

 

“Yeah, and a battery powered lantern. Did you happen to see if the vicar lives at the church? He might have some objections if we show up in his graveyard with all of this, summoning ghosts.”

 

“The vicarage is on the plot next door. At least, I think it is. We just need to pick a stone that is hidden from it by the church… We’ll be fine.”

 

Sirius grabbed his hand to help him over a chair, and together they went and pulled on their boots and jackets. Remus had the instructions and incantation in his pocket, Sirius a box carrying their supplies. 

 

They decided to park a little ways from the yard to avoid their headlights being seen. The Landrover was parked in a small layby and securely locked. 

 

A stone wall surrounded the churchyard, but it was short and fallen down with age. Ignoring the open gate, they climbed over the low stones and paused to listen. 

 

A gentle breeze wound its way between the leaves, rustling and disturbing those that had fallen. All around them, the sounds of the countryside seemed to shift and sing. The quiet trill of a frog echoed against the crackle of a creature’s footfalls in the brush. Most glaring of all was the silence that could be found in amongst the beats of noise. So different from their flat above the shop where late night pub goers and the passing of vehicles made up their nightly routine.

 

Above them, the stars were beginning to come out, and they both tilted their heads to watch. 

 

“It’s beautiful out here.” Sirius murmured, fingers searching out Remus’ in the dark to gently hold. Remus squeezed back. 

 

“It is… maybe we should start looking at a cottage somewhere.”

 

“If we survive this, I’m holding you to it.”

 

Once they were several yards in and past the first corner of the church itself, Sirius clicked on their lantern. The white glow was eerie against the aged masonry and gravemarkers. Carved letters stood out in sharp relief. 

 

“Just any one?”

 

“Yeah… but I feel like we should pick one that’s been here for a bit. Maybe one that belongs to a woman.”

 

“Sure… let’s just…” Sirius held the lantern out and they began to spread out within the halo of light. 

 

“Hey… this one is from 1901… Hazel Forsythe. Consumption.” 

 

“Right. That sounds good. What does it say about the portions?”

 

“Just half oil, half honey.” 

 

Sirius handed over the lantern and Remus set it beside the stone so that they had enough light to get on, but not enough to catch the eye of any passing motorists. He read over the incantation in his head, paper clenched tightly in shaking hands. 

 

“Do you want-”

 

“No, I’ll read it. I’m the one Thomas sought out. Hopefully that helps. Hell, hopefully this works.”

 

“If it doesn’t, we tried and that’s all anyone can ask.”

 

“Mhm…” 

 

Sirius handed him the vase, amber and gold catching the light and refracting in a mosaic along the gravestone. Remus clutched it to his chest in one hand and cleared his throat. He felt Sirius’ hand touch his back and was comforted to know that Sirius’ fingers weren’t nearly so steady as he claimed. 

 

“Go on. Now or never.”

 

Remus nodded, trying to still the sudden hummingbird thrum of his heart. 

 

_ “I call on Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, and Jeremiel to provide protection.” _ His voice was loud in the yard and he swallowed, palm sweaty against the vase. 

 

“ _ I adjure you, O Spirit, Ram-bearer, who dwells among the graves upon the bones of the dead, that you will accept from my hand this offering, and do my will by bringing Mary Corbett, wife of Charles Corbett, who is dead. Raise her up so that she will speak to me without fear, and tell me the truth without deception. Let me not be afraid of her, and let her answer whatever question I need ask her.” _

 

They stood in silence, waiting. Eyes strained to see past the watery light of their lantern. Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but as he did, the smallest of breezes curled about his neck, ruffling his hair and making it stand on end. 

 

Around them the wind grew, leaves and debris skittering across the ground. Remus instantly felt the change in temperature, used to it now, and gently set the vase before the stone. 

 

“Mary?” He asked softly, stepping back and into Sirius. The light of their lantern dimmed until it flickered out. 

 

In the still of the dark a figure began to form.

 

A person of small stature, with hair pinned and a full skirt. As she grew clearer, Remus recognised Mary from the photo. Brown curls framed a plain but expressive face. She seemed confused, but not angry, mouth the same shape as Thomas’. 

 

“Are you Mary Corbett?” Remus finally asked, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt. 

 

“I am. Who are you? Why have you called me?”

 

“I’m Remus. Remus Lupin. My partner and I, Sirius Black,” He prodded Sirius to step forward. “We’re working at Harwood Park.”

 

At the mention of the manor a cloud fell over her face.

 

“I no longer have ties with that place.”

 

“But… you did.” Remus forced himself to speak. “I know about the fire. I know what happened. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

 

She stared at him, silent. 

 

“...when you passed, did you remain here? Or did you crossover?” 

 

“I embraced it with the expectation that my husband and son would be there to greet me. And they weren’t.” Mary’s voice was barely audible, rising and falling with the wind. Remus strained to hear her. “I waited… I searched… but they were not there.”

 

“No, they weren’t. They’re still at Harwood Park. I’ve seen them, spoken with them.”

 

At this she flinched, shook her head in disbelief. 

 

“I returned but they were not there.”

 

That brought them up short, and he glanced back at Sirius, confused. 

 

“They are. Charles and Thomas are both there, but they’re trapped. They’re confused and hurting. Earthbound. Maybe they couldn’t hear you over their pain… but Thomas told me that they’re looking for you, that they lost you and can’t find you.”

 

“...I found only silence in those halls. No one answered my pleas.” Mary stared at them, eyes glistening, and Remus had to resist the urge to reach for her, to console her. 

 

“We want you to come back.” Sirius interrupted. “We want you to be together. You can help them crossover with you. Thomas has grown attached to Remus. Maybe with us all there, we can make it work. We can help you.”

 

“Mary, they’re waiting for you. They are.”

 

“What if it does not work?... I cannot bear…”

 

“It will. It’ll work. I promise.” Remus said, hoping to god he wasn’t lying.

 

“...I don’t know if… they’re really there?” The last part was asked almost tearfully, and Remus found himself nodding. 

 

“We can head back right now if you could meet us there tonight. Now even. We promise we can do this. Please, come with us.” Remus couldn’t stop himself before reaching for her. His fingers went through the thin line of her forearm. Shivers racked up his hand, gooseflesh breaking out across his skin. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He said quickly, feeling Sirius hand tighten on the small of his back. 

 

“Now?”

 

“Yes, we will go right now. We can’t… travel like you do, but it will only take a quarter hour for us to get there.”

 

“Alright. Yes, now.”

 

“Okay, perfect. I uh… release you?” He hadn’t actually thought about that part, but when he finished speaking, Mary faded quickly, a hopeful smile on her pale face. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, it worked.” Sirius spoke up from beside him, staring at the now empty spot of ground. 

 

“I know.”

 

“So we… go back now. And hope Charles doesn’t set us on fire again?”

 

“Yeah. Maybe figure out where the hell they keep the bloody fire extinguisher.”

 

“I doubt Rupert had one.”

 

“Fair.” 

 

Sirius took the vase from Remus and tucked the empty honey and oil bottles under his arms. 

 

“Come on, we have one night to fix this.”

 

They practically ran for the road, lantern light bouncing in all directions as they pelted up the road to their vehicle. 

 

Eleven minutes later, they were peeling down the long drive, gravel spraying. 

 

“Fuck, I hope she’s there.” Remus said as they threw the doors open. 

 

Every single light in the manor was on, even in rooms where they both knew had no working light bulbs. For the briefest of seconds, Remus thought Charles might have gone ahead with his threats. But it was bright yellow, no flickering. 

 

“Mary?!” Sirius called out as they mounted the steps. 

 

In the entrance hall, there was only silence. 

 

“Mary, we’re here!” Remus echoed.

 

Sirius peered into both parlours. 

 

“Nothing…”

 

“THOMAS!” Remus shouted, running to the bottom of the stairs. “THOMAS, I FOUND HER!” He took the stairs two at a time, checking first the room with the jewelry, and then he and Sirius’ bedroom. He could hear Sirius calling for Mary downstairs.

 

Door by door, he flung open each along the corridor, pausing at the attic door. 

 

“Don’t… not up there. I cannot go back up there.” The voice behind him startled him, and he spun around, legs weak at the sight of Mary standing there. 

 

“Okay… yeah, I get that. Um, mostly Thomas has come to me in the bedroom or in the kitchen. If we go back down… it, yeah.” Words weren’t usually a thing Remus found himself at a loss for, but he found himself stumbling to form a coherent thought. “Kitchen?”

 

A hint of a smile touched the corner of her lips, and he found himself relaxing just that little bit. 

 

“Kitchen?” He asked. She nodded and he almost wanted to offer his arm. 

 

Instead, they went side by side, Remus ignoring the waves of cold that seemed to roll off of her with every step. 

 

“Oh, thank god.” Sirius was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Now how do we get them to come out?”

 

“When I last tried, they ignored my calls.” Mary said quietly, that soft voice wavering. 

 

“Did we leave a fire going in the kitchen when we left?” Sirius asked, stopping to open the door. 

 

“...I think?”

 

“I have an idea.”

 

“Shite.” Remus said without thinking. 

 

“No. Not shite. It’s a good idea. Watch.” 

 

The fire was beginning to burn itself into coals and Sirius quickly tossed in some kindling to get the flames up, piling it high until beads of sweat broke out across his brow. Behind him, Remus watched as Mary seemed to drift around the kitchen, hands lingering over old implements, eyes tracing the original counters he knew she must have worked at for years. 

 

“Okay, you old bastard, I have your book!” Sirius’ shout caught him off guard, and he spun back around in time to see Sirius waving the photo album above his head. 

 

“Oh, no… no, Sirius, do not-”

 

“I’m going to throw it in the fire!” Sirius shouted over him. 

 

“He’s not… he won’t.” Remus mouthed at Mary, aware of her widened eyes and horrified expression. She glanced uncertainly between them, and again Remus shook his head at her. 

 

“The only physical memory you have of your family-” 

 

The album went flying from Sirius’ hand, cracking against the wall and coming to rest on the counter. 

 

“There we go…” Sirius sounded almost elated, despite the ladle that came sailing close on its heels. Followed by a cast iron pan that shattered a crock pot across the way. 

 

“For fuck’s sake, Sirius!” Remus shouted, reaching to grab him and drag him close. 

 

“It worked, though!” Sirius was grinning and Remus could practically see the pulse hopping in the base of his throat. 

 

“If we die-”

 

“We won’t.”

 

“Don’t burn it!” It wasn’t the angry snarl they expected but the small voice of a child. 

 

From the shadow of the door, Thomas’ face peered out. 

 

“He doesn’t mean it, he’s just sad. Please don’t burn my picture.” 

 

“He’s not going to burn it, Thomas. I promise.” Remus answered, glancing back at Mary again. 

 

She was standing frozen, staring in wonder at her son.

 

“Look… Thomas, it’s safe… right there. Come in and see.” He gestured to the fallen album. 

 

Thomas took one cautious step past the threshold and after a pause, another. 

 

“Thomas…” Mary’s voice cracked but it didn’t matter. As soon as the first syllable left her mouth, the boy came to a stop. Very slowly he began to turn, and when his eyes landed on his mother, a look of disbelief painted the tiny features. 

 

“Mum…” It was more of a breath than a word.

 

“Thomas… oh, my lord… I looked for you, I looked everywhere…” Mary dropped into a crouch just in time to catch the hurtling child in her arms. 

 

“...Mary…?” 

 

A new voice joined the fray, neither angry nor loud. 

 

A man stood in the shadows, just out of sight. 

 

“Is this… a trick? One of your damned attempts-” The voice spoke again, but Mary cut him off.

 

“No. No, Charles. They came and found me.” With Thomas in her arms, Mary moved towards him. “ I’ve come here so many times, searching… you never answered.”

 

Charles stepped out from the dark. Soot smudged his skin, eyes haloed in black. The lines of his face told of endless suffering. He stared at her as though afraid she would vanish, afraid to touch. His hand hovered. 

 

“...you can’t stay here. We can’t.” Mary took the hand and every line of Charles’ body softened, slumped. 

 

“God, Mary, I thought…”

 

“I know… I know…”

 

“The theory is… that even though you were looking for each other, the trauma of your passing made it hard for you to hear the other. Or to crossover.” Sirius’ spoke up, quietly. “...sometimes the pain and the shock can create a block.”

 

The family stared at him for a brief second before looking back at each other, Thomas cradled against his mother’s chest, Charles enfolding them both in his arms. 

 

“We should…”

 

“Yeah…” 

 

The pair began to edge towards the exit, each ignoring the sheen to the others’ eyes. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

It was Charles. 

 

“I’m… I apologise. For the things that I did… that I’ve done.” He seemed to struggle for a moment. 

 

“It’s alright. We’re fine. All good.” Remus smiled, pinching Sirius behind his back. 

 

“Yeah. Good. No injuries or… anything. I totally get it.” The brunet added. “...honestly I would probably act exactly the same in your situation… so no hard feelings. No grudge.” He tacked on incase Charles was unfamiliar with the saying. 

 

“...I knew you would help us.” Thomas peeked out from between his parents. 

 

“I’m glad I could.” Remus was absolutely not blinking away any tears when he grinned in reply. “Least we could do…”

 

“...and now, we will give you your privacy. Just uh… let us know when you’re heading out.” 

 

They were inching closer to the door, and with one last glance, disappeared out into the hall. 


	8. Chapter Eight

As they staggered down the main corridor, both Sirius and Remus felt lightheaded and giddy. The strange mixture of adrenaline, relief, and receding terror had them shaking in their literal boots and giggling like children. 

 

“We did it. We fucking did it.” Sirius was grinning ear to ear, one arm slinging around Remus’ waist while the other went flat to the wall to keep them upright.

 

“I can’t believe it worked… holy hell.” For his part, Remus couldn’t stop smiling, and when they eventually managed to make it to the parlour, they threw themselves down on the antique settee hard enough to make it skid backwards. 

 

Remus wiped at his not-tears.

 

“...if the estate business goes tits up, at least we know we have a second career option.” Sirius muttered, sliding sideways until his head came to a rest on Remus’ shoulder. “Could be a side business. Offer to look into any potential hauntings in the properties we go to.”

 

“...unless they want to keep the ghost. Sometimes it’s good for business.”

 

“Fair. We could counsel the ghost. But I mean… if the ghost wants to leave…”

 

“Who are we to stop them?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Christ, I love you.”

 

“Love you, too, even when you want to stay in a house where I get spades thrown at me and set on fire.”

 

“You lived.”

 

“Barely. I have a bruise.”

 

“Poor thing.” 

 

The couple lapsed into silence, shored up against each other, fingers joined between them. 

 

Behind them, the clock stopped ticking. When they both turned their heads to glance at the smaller one on the side table, its hands had stopped moving. 

 

All at once it felt as though the house exhaled. Wood creaked and pipes sputtered. Every tense little feeling that had dogged their steps all weekend just faded away. Papers fluttered and settled. 

 

“That’s them gone?” Sirius sat up, eyes darting. 

 

“I think, yeah. Feels different. Better.”

 

“Safe…”

 

“Happy.”

 

They sat a while more, gathering enough energy to actually stand, and when they did they made a stop in the kitchen. It was empty as expected, and they gathered enough leftovers for a snack before quietly exiting and going up to their room.

 

After a long, hot shower and roast sandwiches, they collapsed into bed.

 

“Finally a night alone, and I barely have the energy to breathe, let alone ravish you. Life is unfair…” Sirius drawled, rolling onto his side and reaching to take Remus’ hand. 

 

“...morning ravishment sounds amazing. But right now, I could sleep for eons.”

 

“Yeah… one last day to actually make a bit of a dent in the place. And then we’re free.”

 

“Mm… I’ll email Georgina about a meeting Monday.”

 

Sirius nodded, shifting when Remus moved closer so that they could curl up together. 

 

“I’m glad we stayed.” Sirius said into the crown of Remus’ head, sniffing affectionately at the disordered waves. 

 

“Yeah… thanks for staying.”

 

“I could never have left you here, you daft bugger.”

 

“But still…” 

 

And they fell asleep like that, blankets up to their chins, wrapped up like a burrito. 

  
  
  


Monday morning dawned bright and cheerful despite the cool fall air. They parked their Landrover carefully between two smaller cars, just outside the restaurant of their first meeting with the Maycotts. 

 

“Got the jewelry?” Remus asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. Sirius held up the carved box from Harwood Park. “Right, perfect. Let’s go, then.”

 

The same maitre’d greeted them and brought them to a secluded table in the far back. Minutes later, Georgina, sans Mr. Maycott, and the solicitor Matthew Gardiner were escorted over. 

 

“Mr Lupin, Mr Black.” Hands were shook, drinks ordered. 

 

“I believe these were the pieces you were most anxious to have returned.” Sirius began, gently setting the jewelry box down beside Georgina’s plate. Her carefully manicured nails glinted in the light as she lifted the lid just enough to get a brief glance. They saw a hint of a smile tug at her lips before she folded her hands on the table once more. 

 

“We didn’t get nearly as much done as anticipated.” Remus said in his quiet, polite, way. It seemed to be the voice Sirius noticed used most with difficult customers, or those who were having trouble understanding a simple concept. Endlessly patient, with an indefinable edge of ‘you fucking idiot’. 

 

“The property is much larger than people anticipate, and with his constant collection of random detritus, I’m sure it was daunting.” She was flicking through the papers and folder Remus had passed over, gesturing to Matthew at an entry here and there. 

 

“We were fine with the workload. Challenging, yes, but a lot of great things. Lots of history.” Remus continued, pinching Sirius’ leg under the table when the taller man opened his mouth to chip in. Sirius immediately snapped it shut and reached for his water instead. “We got caught up solving the ghost problem though.”

 

The noise Georgina made was nothing so inelegant as a snort, but the amusement was clear. 

 

“I’m sorry, the what?”

 

“Ghost problem. Been around since… probably 1891? Ish?” Remus glanced at Sirius for confirmation and Sirius pretended to consider before nodding. He used his waterglass to hide the smile forming. “...I’m sure there were stories passed down the generations. Quite hard to miss, really, but no worries. We got it sorted for you. I might be wrong in thinking this, but I would guess you plan on restoring Harwood and opening it to the public, a little added income, a service to the country, considering its age and architecture. An angry ghost burning your guests to a crisp might put a damper on that. Don’t recommend the experience at all. It would definitely get you a bad review on Yelp.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Remus saw the solicitor quickly stifle a smile before burying his face in a folder. Thankfully, Georgina was staring hard at Remus, eyes calculating. 

 

“No sex swings or assaults on staff found, which I know was your main concern.” The entire time he kept his polite smile in place, tone perfectly conversational. 

 

There was a pause as a waiter stopped to deposit a full tea service between them. 

 

Once they were alone again, Sirius reached for a small sandwich and popped it into his mouth. 

 

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to get out of this… you signed an NDA.”

 

“Oh, we don’t want money. We only got a bruise or two.” Sirius supplied helpfully. 

 

“Your offer was very generous. We just wanted you to know that there’s no longer a danger to visitors’ physical and mental well-being. If we hadn’t, we would have definitely recommended putting a warning in your tour pamphlets.” 

 

“How considerate.” The frosty tone of voice seemed lost on the men as they poured their tea and helped themselves to the small canapes. 

 

“...is this your way of telling us that you’re quitting?” Matthew spoke up finally in an attempt to break the tension. 

 

“No, not at all. It’s a beautiful property. We would love to continue working on the inventory, help get things moving. You probably have a team of craftsmen ready to dive in, but if you’re stuck, we know some great restorers as well.”

 

“I’m sure you do.” 

 

“Yeah, we’re quite happy with the agreement we signed. Just wanted to let you know, that’s all.”

 

“That’s very… kind of you.” Georgina said finally. “Of course, we will need time to review your current progress before deciding on how to move forward, but we are more than happy to continue our association.”

 

“Lovely.” Sirius beamed, flashing one of his devastating smiles. 

 

“Unfortunately, we need to run. Lots to do back at the store.” Remus cut in.

 

“Oh yes, of course. You’ve been away for four days.” Georgina was the picture of restrained aristocracy.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Both men pushed their chairs back and stood. 

 

“Thank you so much for meeting with us as quickly as you did. We know you have a busy schedule.”

 

More pleasantries passed between them, and after a final farewell, Sirius and Remus beat a hasty exit. 

 

Out on the street, Remus instantly veered towards their parking space, but Sirius grabbed his hand and tugged him back.

 

“Wh-”

 

He hadn’t the time to finish the question before Sirius spun him around and pushed him back into the stone wall of the building, kissing him soundly on the lips.

 

A breathless few minutes later they broke apart, and Remus grinned up at Sirius, eyes dancing. 

 

“What was that for?”

 

“You were brilliant in there. I love when you tell people to fuck off like you’re discussing the weather. It does things to me.” And to prove his point he leaned his body in just enough for Remus to feel the bulge of interest against his hip. 

 

“It does, does it?”

 

“So many things…”

 

“Then we best get back to the shop.”


End file.
